The Beautiful Game
by Backup Zebo
Summary: Washington Eagles F.C. are a struggling pro soccer club in England. They decide to place their trust in young, female manager Natasha Romanoff to restore the once great club to its former glory. With club captain Steve Rogers, fan-favourites Tony Stark and Clint Barton and wonder goalkeeper T'Challa at her side, can she restore this once great club? Soccer/Football AU.
1. Chapter 1

**The Beautiful Game**

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fake teams_

Natasha Romanoff had been enduring of a broken, hazy slumber before the phone rang. The harsh bell ringtone rang out in the near complete silence of her bedroom. She jolted upright and fumbled blindly for her smartphone on the bedside table, eventually wrapping her fingers around the cold casing. She swallowed the dryness in her mouth before answering.  
"Hello?" Natasha said, hoping her voice didn't betray the fact that she had been asleep.  
"Natasha. Washington Eagles in Northern England got back to me a few minutes ago. They want you. The contract is more or less ready to be signed, I got you the best I could," Pepper Potts, Natasha's agent, replied. Natasha sat bolt upright, smoothing out her red curls and rubbing her eyes, no fully alert.  
"Really?" She asked. "What, now?"  
Pepper giggled nervously down the line.  
"I just booked us a flight to Heathrow and a train to Sunderland and a hotel for a few nights. We'll be in Washington by Tuesday evening. Pack your bags, kid. I'm on my way to your apartment."  
Pepper arrived after a half-hour, together they packed Natasha's suitcase and discussed their impending adventure.

Natasha was a soccer manager. She had recently run out her contract with an MLS club, despite a decent end to the season. Since then, Pepper had been searching for vacant positions all around the country before getting into contact with the struggling English Second Division club Washington Eagles F.C.. The club had fallen on hard times in recent seasons, resulting in the sales of major players and the club's fall from grace as a major contender in the English Premier Division. As a result, many young, inexpensive American exports had been signed by the Eagles. Despite the financial troubles, the club had managed to stave off relegation to the Third Division at the end of the season. Unfortunately, the manager resigned shortly after, the 60 year old citing stress as a main factor for his resignation.

Natasha had researched each player on Washington's books and had watched hours of tapes as preparation should she be offered a contract. The players were young- between the ages of 17 and 25- and certainly had the potential to improve under the right guidance. The club had a strong academy, helmed by Phil Coulson, and provided backups for the starters.

Once on the plane, Natasha took out her binder and began studying the contents once again. She had a profile of each member of the starting eleven, beginning with the captain, Steve Rogers.

NAME: Steven Rogers  
AGE: 23  
ROLE: Captain  
POSITION: Striker (5th highest scorer in Second Division in previous season.)  
STRENGTHS: Height allows for prowess at heading and volleys. Physical strength. Accurate from both close and mid range. Leader of team. Chemistry with JAMES BARNES allows for more opportunities  
WEAKNESSES: Often tracks too deep to receive ball, makes counter-attacking difficult.

At the bottom of the file, there was a photo of Rogers. His blond hair was instantly recognisable. As was his large frame. Natasha flipped over the page to examine the next profile.

NAME: T'Challa  
AGE: 24  
POSITION: Goalkeeper  
STRENGTHS: Extremely quick reflexes. Strong in stops. Long kick. Won "Save of the Season" award last season. Strength and speed.  
WEAKNESSES: Few. No noticeable flaws, requires only training and better defenders.

Natasha continued to examine her notes for most of the long flight, pausing only to catch up on her missed hours of sleep. It was morning when they landed in London. Pepper rushed them onto a packed train and they settled in again for a two hour long trip. Natasha examined two more profiles.

NAME: Clint Barton  
AGE: 23  
POSITION: Defensive midfielder preferred but can play anywhere in midfield when required.  
STRENGTHS: Pin-point accuracy in passes. Strong in tackles. Fan favourite. Accurate with either foot.  
WEAKNESSES: Can lose focus often. Slightly hot-headed. Missed much of previous season due to injuries.

NAME: Tony Stark  
AGE: 24  
POSITION: Attacking midfielder, can play as a full back when required.  
STRENGTHS: Uses trickery on more physical opponents, willing to defend when needed. Rarely gives up on games when losing. Fan favourite.  
WEAKNESSES: Can be complacent. Off-field life overshadows actual performances.

"All right, put it away, Natasha," Pepper ordered. Natasha sighed and closed her notes and tried to eat the sandwich she had bought from the food trolley on the train. However, her stomach rolled and twisted, making eating difficult. Natasha shifted nervously in her seat. Pepper returned to her newspaper from where she sat opposite Natasha.  
"Tell me about the chairman one more time," she asked. Pepper considered her from over the paper before folding it and speaking.  
"Nicholas J. Fury is the owner and chairman. He recently bought the club and appointed Maria Hill as chief executive. He's a perfectionist, but so are you. Fury is looking forward to meeting you in person. He has appointed several new doctors and coaches since May, including Wanda Maximoff, your potential assistant manager. Everything's gonna be all right, I promise..." Pepper said, reaching out and brushing Natasha's hand. Pepper recognised the familiar look of steely determination in her friend and client's green eyes.

Eventually, at almost five o'clock on Tuesday evening, the train pulled into the station. The club had sent a car to collect them from the station. Rain had begun to fall onto the pavement and splattered on the windshield and roof.  
"Welcome to the English Summer," the driver joked when Natasha and Pepper had settled in. Natasha had begun to relax. Her situation seemed to be less surreal. She almost believed she was going to be Washington Eagles manager.

They left the city after getting stuck in rush hour traffic and eventually reached Washington town before pulling into the club grounds in the suburbs. The entrance to the training grounds and buildings consisted of an electronic barrier and high walls surrounded the complex.  
The rain had ceased but grey clouds lingered ominously on the horizon. The car halted in front of the main building in the complex. It was two stories high and was a dull grey in colour, save for the ornate brown double doors and grand pillars at the front. The double doors bore the team crest of an eagle in flight, wings spread out with the club name embroidered around the emblem.

Natasha and Pepper stepped out of the car and were met by a woman of middle height but taller than Natasha, with wavy blonde hair that reached her shoulders. Her blouse was rolled up to her elbows and she looked stressed, but not flustered. She held a black folder in her arms and stood beneath the veranda of the grey building. Natasha and Pepper were led over to the blonde woman by their driver. The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand firstly to Natasha, then to Pepper.  
"Sharon Carter," she said confidently. "I'm the head of Public Relations and Human Resource here at Washington. It's a pleasure to have you here."  
Sharon's warmth calmed Natasha immensely. Sharon instructed the women to follow her. They walked into a well furbished reception area. Sharon led them down several corridors and up stairs until she stopped in front of a door marked: MEETING ROOM.  
Sharon knocked before entering.  
"Ms. Romanoff is here, sir," she said.  
"Bring her in then," came a brisk reply from a deep male voice.  
Sharon gestured for Natasha and Pepper to come inside the room. A long mahogany table ran along the centre of the room. Underfoot there was a plush navy carpet with the eagle emblem embellished into the centre. A floor to ceiling window ran along the back wall, affording views of the training pitch and training buildings. There was currently a session taking place on the pitch.  
A large man and a slim woman sat at the foot of the table. Both stood when the women entered. The woman was tall and pale with raven hair pulled into a bun. She wore a pantsuit coloured navy. The man was average height, with dark coloured skin and was bald. He also had an eye patch over one eye which made him look very intimidating. He wore a black suit and a trench coat hang on the back of his chair.  
"Ah, Ms. Romanoff and Ms. Potts. Nice to finally meet in the flesh," the man said, extending his hand to shake. He gestured for them to sit alongside him.  
"My name is Nicholas Fury, but I prefer Nick, or Fury. Depends on my mood," he said. Fury turned to his left and gestured to the woman. "This here is Maria Hill."  
Hill shook hands with both women and they all sat at one end of the elongated table.  
"I've never been one to beat around the bush, Natasha, so I'll cut to the chase. This team has been performing poorly recently, the last owners ran the finances into the ground and sold the best players to cover debts. But I bought this place to rebuild it. Make it better. The last manger almost put my plans in jeopardy. In contrast, you led an MLS minnow of a team to a very high finish, thus making you the youngest and first female manager in US soccer history," Fury said. "I want that same guts and fire here, which is why I want you to manage this team."  
As he finished his sentence, he nodded at Hill who opened a briefcase and took out several sheets of stapled paper. She slid it over to Pepper, who in turn gave it to Natasha. She went through It slowly, taking in all the information. Fury wanted success for his club, and as far as he was concerned, success was equal to promotion to the First Division once more.  
Natasha glanced at Pepper who seemed satisfied and then smiled.  
"Where do I sign?" She asked. Maria Hill smiled for the first time, as did Fury. They gave Natasha a pen and answered her questions.  
Pepper had booked them into a hotel for a few nights but Hill announced that the club owned a house in the town that all managers lived in during their tenure and arrangements were made for Natasha to move in by the start of the end of the week.  
At the end of the meeting, Fury instructed Sharon to assemble the players that were training in the briefing room as soon as they were showered and dressed,along with the coaching staff.  
After a few minutes, Sharon returned with the news that everyone was ready. Natasha's stomach twisted and knotted with anticipation, the hairs on her arms stood up. Pepper placed a calm hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Fury and Hill took the express route to the briefing room in the training building adjacent to the main building while Sharon gave Natasha a partial tour before eventually halting in front of a door.  
Voices speaking could be heard from the other side. Natasha took several deep breaths to calm herself but could not keep her stomach from jumping when Sharon turned to her. She told Natasha that there was a bathroom if she wanted to spruce up her appearance. Natasha gratefully accepted the opportunity. She smoothed out the shirt she had put on in the train bathroom, pulled her unruly hair in to a ponytail and sprayed perfume.  
When she returned to Pepper and Sharon. The PR officer stood with one hand on the silver painter metal door handle. She grinned a wide, white smile.  
"Are you ready to meet your team?


	2. Chapter 2

**The Beautiful Game**

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fake teams_

* * *

Steve Rogers stood on the dewy grass of the training field, green grass stains on his black training kit. His feet stood shoulder width apart as he stared at the soccer ball before him. Steve looked at the ball, then the goal 30 yards away and to Steve's left, and back again as he prepared to line up a shot. T'Challa was very nearly the height of the goal and it made Rogers' task look all the more daunting. The air was still damp from that day's downpour and Steve's blond hair stuck flat to his scalp. Steve took one last look at the top right corner of the goal before exhaling and beginning his steps toward the ball.

T'Challa waved his long arms to distract Rogers but Steve focused only on the ball as he ran toward it. He felt himself inhale as his right leg wound back and then, exhale as the struck the ball with his right foot. Steve stared as he watched the ball soar swiftly towards the goal. Though the ball was struck with speed and venom, T'Challa had been able to watch its flight. He leapt to the right hand corner and got a strong gloved hand to the ball to push it out to the side. However, the shot used so much power that T'Challa's hand stung, even through his thick gloves.

Steve ran his hands through his hair in frustration but managed a wry smirk. The goalkeeper sprang back to his feet, a bright smile on his face.

"You can surely do better than that, Rogers," T'Challa teased through his thick Wakandan accent, picking up the ball. Steve laughed.

"Hey, it's a slippery ball. Damn thing skidded off my foot," the blond replied. T'Challa tossed him the ball and Steve replaced it in the bag with the other footballs. They were the last two people of the training grass and they jogged around to pick up stray cones and equipment before joining their teammates in the dressing rooms.

These rooms were housed in a small building, separate from the imposing grey buildings of the rest of the complex. The dressing rooms were a single level building with showers next door. Steve and T'Challa strode through the doors into the long dressing rooms. The rest of the players that had been training for the pre-season were there. Steve walked over to his spot in the far left corner of the room and sat down. His best friend and teammate James 'Bucky' Barnes was already sitting down, having taken off his wet jersey, leaving on his Under Armour vest. Barnes was beginning to peel off his trademark silver tape that was wrapped around his left arm, stretching from the bases of his fingers to halfway up his biceps. Bucky nodded in acknowledgement of Steve's presence. Steve grunted back and began peeling his damp kit off.

Suddenly, just as Steve had successfully removed his jersey, the old wall-mounted telephone by the doors rang out. All the other players jolted and complained, each telling the other to answer it. Sighing heavily, Steve got up to answer it. His legs were heavy and his joints ached and he shuffled over. The other men had quickly got over their shock at the phone's shrill noise and had resumed their usual loud volume.

"Hello?" Steve greeted, lifting the receiver to his mouth.

"Steve. Just the man I was looking for," Sharon replied, sounding stressed. Steve had to strain his ears to hear her and held his hand up for quiet. Instantly, a hush fell over the rowdy players in response to their captain.

"What is it?" Steve asked. The phone in the dressing rooms was only called when things were urgent.

"There's someone Mr. Fury wants you and the boys to meet. Be showered, freshly scented and fully clothed in the briefing room in fifteen minutes. Maximoff's been told, so expect her any time now. Be ready when she arrives. This is urgent, Rogers." Sharon spoke with such gravity that Steve immediately complied and put down the phone. He turned around to face his expectant teammates. Rogers clapped his hands together.

"All right, boys. We're wanted in the briefing room in fifteen. Get your backsides cleaned and smelling like daisies in ten. Maximoff is on her way, so you know that means be ready in five. If you're ready, head over. Let's get to it!" Steve announced. The players raced into action. Most made for the adjourning showers while a few others zipped up their bags and made for the big complex.

* * *

Wanda Maximoff, the interim head coach until the next manager appointment, arrived just as the last man out of the showers (Tony Stark) finished buttoning his shirt. The usual smell of sweat and grass was unusually absent from the dressing rooms as she entered. Instead, it was replaced by aftershave and deodorant. There was five men left, excluding Steve who had stayed behind to supervise and to make sure no one was lost in transit from there to the briefing room. Wanda tore into the room like a whirlwind.

"C'mon, c'mon! Get moving! Not a good idea to make Fury wait!" she exclaimed. Clint Barton had been kneeling under a wall-mounted bench, searching for his shoes when he jumped at the yells of the coach, whacking his head off the wooden bench. Tony Stark and Thor Odinson reached down and pulled him out, dumping him onto the floor.

"Barton! I swear if you get injured again, I will personally kick your ass off the team!" Wanda declared. Clint rubbed his head and stood up, finding his 'missing' shoe on top of his gear bag while Bucky concealed a giggle. The men finished getting ready and hefted their bags onto their shoulders. Wanda ushered them out of the dressing rooms and escorted them across the gravel and into the main complex. They sped to the briefing room to find that nothing had begun. Wanda nodded at Steve, who took charge while the coach raced off in search of someone. Steve organised his teammates into their seats before taking a chair in the front row for himself. After five minutes, the door to the briefing room opened. Steve did a quick head count to make sure the other players were all there and was satisfied with the number.

When he turned his head back to the top of the room, he saw Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, Wanda and two other unfamiliar women. One of the new women was tall and elegant with long, strawberry blonde hair. The other was shorter, with fiery curls tied in a ponytail. The shorter woman was about the same age as most of the team, including him. Steve couldn't help but stare slightly as she strode confidently alongside the Chairman. The party of six came to a halt at the top of the room, on a small stage. Fury cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, while the redhaired woman surveyed the large group in front of her. Steve felt himself sit straighter when her intense green gaze eventually settled on him.

"Who's the ginger broad?" Brock Rumlow whispered into Steve's ear. Steve bristled and shifted in his seat, shooting Rumlow a look that read _'shut up'_.

"Men, we have assembled you here today because we have an important announcement to make," Fury boomed, his voice reverberating off the walls. He gestured at the small woman, who came to stand beside him.

"This here is Natasha Romanoff… We have come to an agreement and it is now confirmed. Ms. Romanoff is our new manager here at Washington Eagles…" Fury paused to let his words sink in. Steve snapped his head to look at Natasha Romanoff. There were murmurs around the hall before a round of applause broke out, led by Rogers, Barnes and T'Challa. Fury waited for quiet before continuing.

"Natasha is here because we believe- no, we _know_ \- that she is the best candidate for the job. You boys behave and everything will be just fine. If not…well, there's always other clubs looking for players. Now, I think I'll let Ms. Romanoff say a few words. If she's not too jetlagged."

The redhead smiled and laughed before standing in the centre of the stage. She walked with such confidence, such purpose, it seemed that she had been a part of the Eagles staff for years.

"I'm not going to lie and tell you that I think we're going to walk our way into a promotion spot. I've done too much research and have too much intelligence for that… It's going to be a dogfight. A long, drawn-out, draining dogfight. But I believe that this club, these players in front of me, can slug it out with the best of 'em," Natasha gazed around the room as she spoke. Several players sat straighter, intrigued by her words.

"I've studied you as players, I know your strengths and weaknesses as they look on paper and on highlight reels. But paper and reality are two different beasts. I will scrutinise you, beginning with the basics and working my way up to the artistry. It won't be easy, but I think you boys can take it, so does Mr. Fury and so does Ms. Maximoff. Do you?" She looked out on the players. They each sat enthralled in her little speech, some nodding slightly, some mouthing _'yes'_ silently, others were stony faced.

"I think that just about covers it, Mr. Fury," Natasha said, smiling sweetly.

"Just about," Fury said, smiling smugly.

Steve and the others watched as Fury led the new manager out of the room. Everyone seemed to exhale a universal breath as the door shut. A hush fell over the usually boisterous group. The silence was only broken when Clint Barton spoke.

"She's gonna make us run, isn't she?"


	3. Chapter 3

**The Beautiful Game**

 _I own nothing but fake teams, the plot and original characters_

* * *

Natasha was officially announced as the Eagles new manager three days after meeting her players on Monday. She was still living out of a hotel room, though Fury had said that she would be moving into a house in the coming days. Since the official announcement, Natasha had done several interviews, a press conference and a photoshoot for the club website, where she was given the navy home jersey of the Washington Eagles with her name on the back to pose with.

Now, however, she was hurriedly getting ready to attend her first training session with the team. Natasha quickly tied up her hair to keep it from getting in her face. She grabbed her binder and notebook and stuffed them into her bag. It was a sunny day outside and Natasha was wearing the blue coach's training jersey with short sleeves. She glanced at her watch as she grabbed the keys to her hire car and saw that it was just gone nine o'clock.

Natasha made it to the training complex carpark in thirty minutes and looked around at the numerous luxury cars parked, and presumably owned, by the players who started games regularly. She parked in an empty corner and made her way to her new office on the ground floor of the main building. She strode through the grand double doors of the building's entrance and navigated down the numerous hallways, toward her office. The room was large, with a couch and a large television mounted on the wall by the door. The carpet was like the one upstairs in the meeting room in that it was navy and soft, and bore the club crest in the centre. Opposite the door, there was a desk with an Apple computer on it. Behind the desk, there was a line of windows that began halfway up the wall. The windows provided Natasha with an unobstructed view of the training pitch and dressing rooms.

Wanda Maximoff was already on the field with the other coaches, setting up cones for practice drills. Natasha grabbed her whistle and boots out of her bag before throwing her shoulder bag onto the couch and leaving her office, locking the door. She slipped her whistle on over her head and slid on her boots once she was outside in the air. Natasha jogged over to join her assistant. They had shared little more than a brief conversation since Natasha was appointed and were intending on discussing tactics and line-ups after the training session.

"Good morning," Natasha greeted, coming to stand beside Wanda. Maximoff jumped and turned but recovered her composure to give a smile.

"Morning," she greeted, folding her arms. "You arrived here alright?"

Natasha nodded and glanced over at the dressing rooms. Some players were on the way toward the field but most were still inside.

"How long do they take to get ready?" Natasha asked. Wanda smirked.

"Not long, if you use my method," she answered, pulling out a bullhorn from her gear bag. Wanda wore a sly, knowing smile. Natasha flicked her eyes to the bullhorn and then to Wanda's face, adopting her own smirk.

"I've got a feeling this is gonna be a fruitful partnership," Natasha said.

Steve stood inside the door of the dressing room, waiting on his fellow players to get ready. Tony, Bucky and Thor were already outside and Steve was eager to personally meet the new manager. T'Challa and Peter Quill made their way outside past Steve, T'Challa winked as he past.

Just as Steve was about to yell at the others for being so slow, he spotted Wanda and Romanoff, the new manager, striding toward him. He spotted Maximoff's trademark bullhorn and could barely conceal his grin as he glanced around at the stragglers in the dressing room. Maximoff's own brother, Pietro, was among the slowpokes. Silently, the two coaches crept up beside Steve, who stepped back quietly. Wanda crept inside while Romanoff peered around the door. Steve got an up-close look at her face. He was stunned by startlingly green eyes and flamelike hair.

Suddenly, harsh sound of the bullhorn went off, frightening the remaining players so much that several fell over.

"Time's up, ladies! Get your asses out there or it's shuttle runs until you throw up!" Wanda shouted. The men scrambled to their feet and rushed out, almost tripping over themselves in the process. Wanda turned on Steve, threatening him with the bullhorn.

"You too, Blondie," she said. Steve smiled and jogged off.

Wanda tossed Natasha the bullhorn. "It comes in pretty handy."

They crossed the yard to the pitch, their boots crunching on the gravel. Natasha took her place in front of the large group of players. She recognised some faces such as Stark, Barton, Thor and silver-haired Pietro Maximoff.

"Alright, I'm gonna assume that you found out about me since we last met, now it's my turn to find out about you. For a warm-up, you're gonna sort into a training game, offense versus defence. Offense wears bibs. Let's go!" Natasha announced. The team seemed to share a look of uncertainty before their captain took charge. Rogers strode forward confidently and picked up the bag of bibs, pulling on a neon yellow one. Bucky and Tony stepped forward next and retrieved a bib. They were followed by Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, James Rhodes and a few others. Wanda threw Stark a ball and blew her whistle to begin, while Natasha watched intently.

Tony rolled the ball in front of him as the others positioned themselves on one side of the pitch. Quill went to close him down and Tony was forced to pass it to the nearby Clint. Barton looked up after taking a touch to nudge the ball in front of him. He saw Steve jostling with Thor and then spotted Pietro dashing in behind the defensive line. Clint deftly sent a diagonal high pass toward Maximoff . Sam Wilson was quick but did not have the explosive speed that Pietro was known for and was beaten to the ball by the Maximoff brother. Pietro controlled the ball with the inside of his foot. Steve and Bucky ran into the penalty box and Pietro sent in a cross. Steve leapt but the ball soared over his head, however, Bucky was perfectly placed behind him to receive the ball. The defenders scrambled to recover and Brock Rumlow launched himself at Bucky's feet to tackle. Bucky controlled the ball and quickly moved it left of Rumlow's rash challenge. Barnes struck the ball low and hard towards the goal. T'Challa was equal to the shot and blocked it with his legs before dropping down on it.

* * *

Natasha watched as the players battled it out for a half-hour, the offense scoring two goals while Thor, Sam and T'Challa gave standout performances in defence. Wanda has forced to whistle for a foul when Rumlow launched a reckless challenge at Tony's feet, catching the midfielder's calf with his studs. The game's second goal came when Clint spotted T'Challa less than a foot off his goal line and took a looping shot from the halfway line that went over the heads of all other players and soared into the net. Wanda finally ended the match after Clint scored.

The coaches then separated the players into groups of six and assigned them different drills. They finished with a quick game of ten-a-side. T'Challa was goalkeeper for one team, while seventeen-year-old Peter Parker was goalie for the other.

As Natasha watched the game, some things became apparent. Bucky and Steve sensed what the other was doing without any communication, Thor was the best centre back on the team and Brock Rumlow was arrogant, dangerous in tackles and a liability. At the end, the tired players gathered around their head coaches in a huddle. Again, it was Wanda who did the talking.

"Good session, boys. We will see you same time tomorrow. Light work in the morning, gym and tactics after lunch. Go hit the showers and go home," she said, clapping her heads as she finished her sentence. The boys turned around and headed for the dressing rooms, except for a handful of players who grabbed a few footballs for extra training. The goalkeeping coach stayed behind to help the new kid, Peter Parker. Steve and Bucky lingered to practice free kicks against Parker, while Clint and Tony placed small training cones on the wooden sideboards that lined the pitch and tried to hit the cones with long, airborne passes. Wanda went to her own office to get changed and to use the coaches' showers. The other coaches went about their business. The sun was beginning to be obstructed as clouds began to roll in, fortunately no rain arrived and the sky was tinged pink as evening approached.

Natasha spotted a stray football and began toying with it with her feet, a sly smile on her face. She flicked it up and began doing keepie-uppies as a breeze blew in. Natasha lost any sense of time and place as she attempted different tricks, she never even noticed the figure behind her as it approached.

"You're pretty good," the male voice said. Natasha jumped, dropping the ball. She whipped around, clutching her chest, steely glare ready. She was met by the chest of Steve Rogers, the forward towered over her. Natasha craned her neck to look at his face.

"Christ! What the- What're you doing?!" she demanded. Rogers struggled to control a smirk initially but recovered his composure.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't intend on scaring you," he replied. Natasha smirked.

"Could've fooled me," she said. Steve laughed, his large features lit up with a smile. Natasha scrutinised his face for a few seconds, before Steve spoke.

"I just wanted to introduce myself, y'know, formally…" he said. He held out a large right hand. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"I know," Natasha replied. Steve noticed that her hand was soft and seemed very small as they shook. "I'm Natasha Romanoff. But I'm gonna guess you may have known that already."

Steve laughed and Natasha noticed the way his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Suddenly, Bucky called out across the field.

"Steve, c'mon! Get your ass over here!" Barnes yelled. Natasha smirked and made a show of moving out of his way. Steve blushed and stuttered an apology.

"It was nice to meet you," he said quickly before ducking his head and jogging toward his best friend. He couldn't help but notice the good looks possessed by the new manager, or the way her eyes twinkled when she smirked. His thoughts were rudely interrupted, however, when a ball hit the back of his head with force and caused him to stumble. He whirled around as his teammates burst out in uncontrollable laughter. The only person that had been standing in the direction the ball had come from was now walking toward the main complex, red hair ponytail bouncing as she walked.

* * *

"So, you want to play with three attackers and midfielders, and four defenders…?" Wanda asked from where she sat on the grey couch in Natasha's office. Natasha had wheeled a small whiteboard in front of the couch and was drawing all kinds of tactics with noughts and crosses littered across the white surface. Natasha nodded.

"Pietro on the left, Barnes on the right and Rogers through the middle. It's where all three are most effective. Pietro's speed can devastate and Barnes is more than capable at both crossing and cutting inside to shoot. Rogers is the best goal scorer we've got," she stated. Wanda inclined her head in deep thought.

"And I'm guessing Barton, Stark and Rhodes in midfield?" she said. Natasha smiled and pointed her marker at Wanda.

"Dead on. I want quick and accurate short passes. Moving all the time."

Wanda smiled before frowning suddenly. "What about defence?"

Natasha sighed and scratched the back of her neck with the marker. "That's more of a problem. I mean, it has got to be Peter Quill and Sam at left and right back respectively, and Thor at centre back but who should partner him?"

Wanda stood up and stretched her back. Natasha had left her profiles on the couch and Wanda picked up and flicked through two.

"We've always partnered Thor with Rumlow," she said. "Banner's just injury prone, he's kind of a risk."

"And Rumlow's a liability. I've seen videos and even him in training today, he could have injured Stark seriously today," Natasha replied. Wanda sighed heavily through her nose and clenched her jaw.

"I just think we should give Banner a shot, couple games at the start of the season, Rumlow can play cup games," Romanoff said. Wanda bit her bottom lip and titled her head.

"Okay, you're the boss…" she replied. Wanda sat back down, crossing her legs. "Can we at least agree on a 'keeper?"

"I don't know, I mean that Parker kid is improving already," Natasha joked, smirking. Wanda rolled her eyes and gave an easy smile. She pointed her finger at Natasha.

"I will smack you with that whiteboard," Wanda said. Natasha laughed, setting down her marker on the whiteboard. She sighed and walked over to her desk, she glanced out the window at the slowly setting sun. Natasha turned back and leaned against her desk. She looked up at the ceiling and chuckled.

"I think this is gonna be a fun season," she said. Wanda laughed and stifled a yawn.

"Here's hoping," Wanda replied. She stood up once more and gathered her things. "I am going home now, I will see you tomorrow, Natasha. Are you coming?"

Natasha shook her head, "Nah, I got some things I gotta figure out. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wanda shrugged and hefted her bag onto her shoulder and left.

A little while later, Natasha was finally ready to go back to her hotel. She locked her office door and was looking forward to a quiet journey home when she was met by the sight of something most sportspeople dreaded – a journalist. The journalist was a girl around Natasha's age but much taller and she spotted Natasha as the redhead made a beeline for her car.

"Ms. Romanoff!" she called. "Ms. Romanoff, if I could please have a second of your time! How do you intend to turn the tide of this club's fortunes!" The journalist half-ran half-walked toward Natasha, who moved just as fast toward her hire car. She didn't respond as she climbed inside.

"Hey, c'mon! Please! It'll just take a second!" the journalist yelled. Natasha ignored her and sped past, very nearly rolling over the journalist's foot. The journalist swore and ran a hand through brown hair.

"Freaking managers…."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Beautiful Game**

 _I own nothing but fake team, the plot and original characters_

* * *

" _Hello and welcome to our first_ Matchday Live _of the season! The summer's almost out, the players are back from holiday and the new managers have joined. We have five-yes, five! - games for you today, including the much-anticipated inaugural match of rookie coach Natasha Romanoff and the Washington Eagles. Lots to look at and consider today as we gear up for a new season of drama and controversy. Ecstasy and agony. We'll have pre-match analysis from all our experts after this short break. Don't go anywhere…"_

The television of Steve and Bucky's shared house boomed from the living and echoed around the house. Bucky threw his boots into his bag as the sports anchor spoke from behind his desk on the television. It was the first game of the season and Bucky could feel the knot of nerves in his stomach as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder. Bucky turned off the T.V. and grabbed his suit jacket from the couch. It was customary for the team to wear their club-issued suits for pre-game lunches until they togged out into their tracksuits and kits for the game. Bucky looked at his watch and sighed as he checked his phone. They were travelling to the team hotel with Tony and Rhodey, once they were at the hotel the team would eat lunch and then the team bus would take them to the Eagles' stadium in the centre of the city. Bucky heard the sudden, brash sound of Tony's car horn.

"Steve, we're gonna be late. Hurry up!" he yelled from the foot of the stairs. He heard a grunt in response and opened the brown oak door. After a few seconds, Steve appeared at top step with his own bag in hand. He raced down the stairs and out the front door. Bucky locked the door and the two men bundled into the backseat of Stark's black Audi.

The four men greeted each other as Steve and Bucky clambered in. Tony revved the engine and glanced at the backseat in his rear-view mirror.

"Ready to win this league?" he asked. Steve and Rhodey rolled their eyes as Bucky laughed.

"Hell, yeah!" he replied as they pulled away from the kerb. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you two awfully confident?" he said, laughing. Rhodey turned in his seat to look at Stark, Barnes and Rogers.

"Didn't coach say promotion was our priority?" Rhodey said sceptically. Tony shrugged as they turned right.

"We win this league, we get promoted automatically. Duh," he stated. Rhodes sighed.

"Can't we just concentrate on today?" Steve asked, gazing out the window. Tony huffed as they reached a red traffic light.

"Whatever, I just hope Barton doesn't get distracted by something shiny or some crap," Stark grumbled. Rhodey tutted.

"He'll be fine. Anyway, I'll be there to cover. Who knows? Maybe you'll start defending," he joked. Stark narrowed his eyes.

"You're so lucky I'm driving right now…"

Stark's threat was met by laughter.

* * *

They arrived at the hotel around the same time as the other players. It was a tall, elegant structure that dominated much of the skyline of the area. It was also owned by Tony's family. The Starks owned a chain of hotels across the globe and had Howard Stark originally cast his son out when Tony announced that he saw his future in soccer, rather than enterprise. However, Tony and his father reconciled not long after Tony signed his first professional contract with a Major League Soccer club.

Tony parked in the underground car park and the men filed out of the car. They made their way to the dining room upstairs to meet their teammates. Thor was the first person to be seen, purely due to the reason that he was taller than everyone else in the room. There were twenty players in total in the room, along with other members of staff, such as team doctors and a press officer. The players had been named on the team sheet the previous day and there was sense of eager anticipation in the room as the men awaited the final announcement of the starting eleven.

Clint, T'Challa and a few others were sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Barton was busily attempting to do up his tie before huffing and stuffing the garment into his pocket. Steve chuckled as he sat down opposite T'Challa.

"Still working on tying a knot?" he asked. Clint scowled and stuck out his tongue, leaning back on his chair. Pietro was walking past and could not help but hook his foot under the chair and tilted it back. Clint tumbled backwards, leaving the others in stitches. He struggled to regain his composure as he sprang back to his feet.

"That's fine. I'll remember this when I gotta choose between passing to you and taking the shot, Maximoff!" he yelled. Wanda materialised at his side, the men stifled their laughter as Clint sighed.

"You called?" she asked innocently. Clint jumped slightly, making it more difficult for his friends to keep straight faces. Wanda gave them all a stern, silencing look.

"N-no, ma'am. I was referring t-to your bro… I mean, Pietro," he stuttered, fidgeting with his sleeves. Wanda folded her arms and looked Clint up and down. Steve thought he saw the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

"Tuck in that shirt and stand up straight. Where's your tie?" she asked. Clint struggled to speak as he felt his throat seize up.

"He couldn't put it on," Tony said, smugly. Wanda whirled around to face the table. The men sitting there gulped.

"And none of you brainiacs helped him?" she asked, eyebrows raised. She pointed at Steve.

"You, Rogers. Help Barton with his tie. I want you all to look respectable. The manager is almost here." Just as Wanda finished her command, Romanoff appeared at the doors. She wore a navy pantsuit with the club crest embroidered on the blazer and had a brown leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

A hush seemed to fall over the usually boisterous men as she walked in. Wanda jumped slightly and swallowed as she joined Natasha. Steve watched as they spoke to each other before the bell went for food. There was a long line of tables that were pushed together to make one monstrous table. Natasha took her place at the head of the table and Wanda sat beside her while another coach, Coulson, sat opposite Wanda. The men and other staff filled the remaining places.

* * *

After everyone had eaten, Romanoff stood up. She held a small slip of paper in her hand and cleared her throat. Everyone turned to look at the manager. She gazed out with a stony expression.

"Hello everyone," Natasha began. "Now that we've all been fed, I think it's a good time to announce the starters for the match against Hyde United."  
An anxious laugh rippled down the table. Natasha looked at the slip of paper.

"In goal, we got T'Challa."

T'Challa eased back into his chair, his arm confidently strung over the back of Clint's chair. Natasha glanced around.

"Odinson and Banner, you two are playing in central defence. Wilson and Quill, you're full backs. Left and right, respectively."

Clint shifted in his seat and looked down the table. Thor seemed pleased, as did Bruce Banner who struggled with injuries in past seasons. Brock Rumlow, however, was seething. He glared at Romanoff with fury in dark eyes. Natasha remained as collected as ever as she named the rest of the team sheet.

"Stark, Rhodes, Barton. You three are the midfield. Same formation as training. Tony, you're attacking. James, Clint, you guys are deeper, more defensive."

Clint finally relaxed when he heard his name being called. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Rogers, you're playing striker. Barnes, Maximoff, you two are on the right and left wings. Finally, the substitutes are Parker, Rumlow, Lang, Campbell, Fitz and Rollins." Natasha leaned forward onto the table. She took a few seconds to recount the speech she came up with the night before as a member of hotel staff wheeled in a small whiteboard with the team's formation drawn on with black marker. Natasha took a deep breath before assuming her full height and clearing her throat to regain the attention of the group.

"So, here it is," she began, glancing around. "This is day one, we start as we mean to go on. Last season is in the past, leave it there. Today is the beginning of what is going to be a tough, exhausting slog. But it's gonna be worth it, y'know why?"

Natasha looked around.

"We're winning this league," Tony declared from where he sat at the end of the table. There was a somewhat nervous atmosphere that settled among the players as no one could decide whether to laugh, cheer or remain silent. Natasha's laugh broke the uneasy silence and the men joined in after a muted sigh of relief.

"That's the right idea, Stark. This club has been stuck in the doldrums for too long! This is our time, your time! So, don't goddamn waste it! Fight with everything you have. Be the great players I know you are… Give the fans something they can sing for!" Natasha urged finally. She let her words hang in the air as she paused for breath and glanced around at the enthralled faces. She let a smirk grace her features.

"A win will go a long way, boys."

* * *

" _Well, folks, it's that time of the year again. You're here today with me, Andy Goodison, and my co-commentator Clive Wilton. The Second Division kicks off today and we are in the gantry at Lieber Park to bring you all the action from the match between new-look Washington and promotion favourites Hyde. So, Clive, who do you fancy for the win today? The Eagles or the Hydras?"_

" _That's a good question Andy. It's got to be the Hydras for me. The Eagles are still adapting under their new manager. Hyde are always promotion favourites, but this year feels right, not only because of all the new players they brought in. I'm going to say a convincing two-nil Hyde United win."_

" _Our expert say it will be two-nil. Let's see it Washington have anything to say about that. Their captain, Steve rogers is placing the ball on the centre spot and the referee is about to blow his whistle to start what is sure to be an exciting game."_

The small stadium could seat a little over 8,000. Steve could hear each voice ringing out in the near capacity park as he pressed the ball onto the white spot. He barely heard the shrill sound of the whistle as the brash noise announced the beginning of the game. Rogers passed the ball backwards to Clint and the season began.

Hyde United pressed high up the pitch, putting immense pressure on Washington's midfield and defence and frustrating the attackers. Tony was caught in possession several times and was subject to many heavy tackles from Hydra defenders. On one such occasion Grant Ward slammed into Stark from behind, prompting Tony to turn furiously on his opponent. Rhodey and Bruce pulled their teammate back before the referee took any action but the tension has beginning to simmer. Thor and his defence endured an onslaught of attacks after Pietro was tackled while trying to create a scoring opportunity.

Eventually, just on the stroke of half-time, Washington managed to create an attack of their own. T'Challa passed the ball to Sam from a goal kick. Wilson jogged forward before playing the ball to Barton as a Hyde attacker was baring down on him. Clint received the ball and spun deftly out of another of Ward's reckless challenges. He looked up for any options and spotted Bucky in space on the right side of the Hydras' half. Clint sent a point-perfect pass soaring toward Barnes.

Bucky controlled it with his chest and looked around him. He smirked inwardly as he saw three men in red and black jerseys coming to close him down. Bucky flicked the ball over the first's head using his heel, he nutmegged the second man and fooled the third into going the wrong way with a dummy pass. Bucky looked up and spotted Steve sprinting into the penalty box parallel to Bucky. He crossed the ball and watched as it fizzed through the air. Natasha watched in anticipation, praying for Steve to score.

Rogers used his forward momentum to propel himself into the air. This, along with his great height, allowed him to reach the ball before his opponent. Using his head, he steered the ball past the goalkeeper and into the net. Steve stumbled as he landed again but stayed upright as he ran toward Bucky in the corner. Steve punched the air as he and Bucky celebrated with the fans.

Some other teammates joined them, jumping on their backs. Unfortunately, Pietro overshot his leap as he aimed for the group and went flying into the stand, much to the delight of the fans who caught him. The crowd were so loud now that the stadium filled with a thunder-like noise. Steve peeled himself away from his peers and saluted the crowd as they cheered.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Wanda tried to keep their celebrations muted but Natasha couldn't help but jump in the air, cheering slightly when Steve's header went in. Wanda was forced to hide her face when Pietro soared quite gracefully into the crowd to prevent the numerous cameras dotted around the ground from picking up her giggles.

After a few seconds, the referee blew for half-time. The players jogged off the pitch and into the dressing rooms. Both Wanda and Natasha spoke, both stressing the same thing. They implored the team against complacency. The Hydras were known for comebacks and Steve knew that the Eagles were going to be bombarded with attacks. The teams were back on the pitch fifteen minutes later. Tony felt cold droplets of water falling onto his skin and glanced upward at the approaching grey clouds.

Steve was right. Time after time, Hyde United attacked them. Thor and Bruce were working hard to keep track of Grant Ward and Johann Schmidt but the Eagles were forced to rely on T'Challa's goalkeeping far too often for Natasha's liking. Pietro and Bucky were growing frustrated as Clint and Rhodey needed to spend most of their time looking after their defensive duties, choosing to pass the ball to the defenders rather than to the attackers.

Steve was forced to run deep to retrieve the ball and turned around to launch an attack, only to be tackled by Hyde's Schmidt-the man the fans called _'Red Skull'_ due to the dark red mask he wore to protect his eternally broken nose. Rogers and Schmidt hated each other and often jostled for different awards, with Steve regularly losing out as he did in that moment.

Red Skull passed the ball off before Steve could even get back on his feet. Sitwell received the ball and played it back to Schmidt as Quill ran to close him down. Quill's movement left a hole in the defence, allowing Red Skull to get into the penalty box from the left side. He looked up once before shooting at goal. The strike was powerful and low, making T'Challa's job a whole lot more difficult. The goalie dived but only felt the ball graze his fingertips as it fizzed into the goal.

The Eagles' hearts all sank. T'Challa sat dejectedly on the now wet ground, arms resting his knees. Clint booted a lump grass into the air in frustrating. Steve watched as the Hydras celebrated their equaliser, hands on his hips. Rogers felt his anger levels rising as he watched Schmidt raise his right hand to his forehead and salute him in a mocking imitation of Steve's trademark celebration. Thor picked the ball out of the goals and punted it up to Bucky who caught it and quickly took the restart.

* * *

Natasha and Wanda stood on the touchline, debating tactics. Wanda recommended bringing on a defender to prevent any more goals.

"We bring on Rumlow and we invite attack," Natasha said. Wanda sighed.

"If we don't, we could concede anyway. The players are tired, the team needs energy," Wanda argued. Natasha bit her bottom lip.

"I know," she conceded. She saw Steve glance at the dugout as one of his shots narrowly missed. He caught her eye and held her gaze for a few seconds. Natasha sensed his frustration and motioned with her hand to calm down before nodding curtly and returning to her conversation.

"Get Rumlow ready, bring Quill off. Go three at the back, tell Wilson and Rhodes to move to the wings and let Barton and Stark go central together," Romanoff ordered. Wanda considered the commands for a moment before nodding and leaving to carry them out. With only a handful of minutes remaining Natasha knew the importance of her every decision and was aware of how she was going to be scrutinised.

* * *

Back on the pitch, tempers were beginning to flare. Clint and been about to release Pietro into space when a Hyde player had clipped his heel, sending him sprawling. Barton and the player then became involved in a scuffle. Tony ran to provide back up for Clint. Rhodey and Bruce pulled their colleagues away but not before the referee issued a yellow warning card to all involved. Washington were awarded the free kick on the halfway line. The substitution was made in the brief pause before the kick was taken and Rumlow relayed Natasha's orders to the others.

With the rain now pouring from the heavens. T'Challa sprinted up from his goal to take the kick, waving his arms frantically to get every Washington player up the field. The 'keeper ignored Clint's protests and commanded Barton to join the other player where they crowded around the penalty box. The goalie sent in quite a good cross. It was met by a Hyde player's head in the air but the ball bounced perfectly for Tony, who stood just outside the box. Without even looking up, Tony reeled back his left foot and blasted the ball with the laces of his boot. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the ball flew through the air. Stark had struck it perfectly. It soared toward the goal and looked to be too high before it dipped under the crossbar.

Tony wheeled off, cheering as his team trailed behind him. The delight on his face matched the ecstasy of the crowd. Stark slid on his knees and came to a stop just in front of the Eagles fans. Clint and Rhodey reached him first and bowled him over as they joined him. Soon, Tony was buried under a sea of bodies as the thunderous noise of the spectators returned to the stadium once more as they cheered Tony's name.

The Eagles defended for their lives for the last few minutes. Steve and the offense dropped back to help and Tony joined Clint in flying into tackles. Eventually, the referee signalled the end of ninety minutes. Several players doubled over in exhaustion and relief. Natasha quickly shook the hand of Hyde United's manager before joining her players on the pitch. She clapped them on the back and pulled several to their feet, including Rhodey and Stark. Natasha gathered all her players and walked over to the stand behind T'Challa's goals. Together, they applauded the supporters. Many of the boys threw an arm around Natasha before leaving for the showers. However, journalists were waiting to grab someone for an interview in the tunnel.

Clint and Tony were nabbed by the prestigious _Cloud Sport_ broadcaster which also awarded the Man of the Match medal. Tony was being honoured for his performance with the award.

"Tony, Clint. Congratulations on the hard-fought win today. It must have been exhausting, especially in this weather," the female journalist said into her microphone.

"Thank you, it was extremely tiring. But we never gave up. We knew we couldn't afford to drop any points and, of course, no one wants to let the coach down first day out," Clint replied. The reporter nodded and smiled politely at Clint's standard answer. She shifted from foot to foot, her cheeks and nose red with the cold. She turned to Stark.

"Tony your goal was fantastic. Can you walk us through what you were thinking?"

Stark adopted the smile he used for all cameras. An easy smirk graced his handsome features as he cleared his throat.

"I don't think you can call it _thinking_ , it's more like instinct. Ball comes down and I just…know. Y'know? I gotta take the shot. Sometimes your team just needs a little magic," Tony disclosed, still giving the reporter his smouldering look. Clint rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

"And an asshole, apparently."

Unfortunately, Tony heard him. His expression changed to one of shock.

"You can't call me an asshole on live T.V., asshole!" he exclaimed. Clint clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Oops!" He turned to the reporter. "Can I say 'asshole' on this show?"

"You can't ask her if you can call someone an asshole!" Tony said, aghast. Clint was turning gradually more pink by the second.

"Well, can I call someone an asshole?" he asked. Tony shook his head violently.

"Why are you asking me if you can call someone an asshole?!" he yelled.

"Because I want to know if I can say- "

Tony cut him off. "STOP SAYING ASSHOLE!"

Both men froze and slowly turned back toward the bemused reporter whose mouth hung slightly open. They adopted angelic smiles.

"C-congratulations, Tony. You've won Man of the Match. Clint, can you do the honours?" She pushed the polished medal into Clint's hand. Clint quickly hung it around Stark's neck.

"Thank you," both replied.

"Goodbye," the reporter answered as she and the cameraman shuffled away.

Clint and Tony sighed.

"That was a close call," Clint sighed. Tony glared at him before walking away.

* * *

 **Sorry about the long wait. Can you tell me if you want shorter match descriptions?**

 **Please leave a review if you liked it. Tell me how to improve!**

 **Bye!**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Beautiful Game**

 _I own nothing but fake team, the plot and original characters_

* * *

After the game, everyone met up at the hotel to decide on where they were going to celebrate the victory. Natasha was going to Pepper's, planning to put a dent in Pepper's extensive wine collection. Wanda was sitting at the hotel bar, chatting with one of the team doctors when Pietro came sidling up to her.

"Hey," he greeted. Wanda nodded before responding.

"How's your ass?" she asked with a smirk playing on her lips. Pietro sighed with a smile as his ears went red.

"It's been two hours and there's already memes…" Pietro grumbled. Wanda laughed, the doctor smiled and said goodbye. Pietro waved and waited for him to be out of earshot before he spoke.

"Ha-ha. You're all alone!" he teased, pointing his finger. Wanda raised an eyebrow and grabbed his finger.

"You realise that you are still beside me, right?" she smirked, releasing his finger. Pietro winced and massaged his hand. He cleared his throat and hastily put his hand down by his side when he spotted several of his teammates laughing at the exchange between the twins.

"So, anyway. Some of the guys were wondering if you would like to come with us tonight. We are going to Wilson's place. What do you say?"

Wanda was sceptical and Pietro sensed it. However, he also sensed how stressed she had been lately and he was eager for Wanda to enjoy herself for a brief while.

"Please?" he begged, giving his sister his best impression of a puppy. Wanda sighed heavily, weighing up her options in her head. Eventually, she decided that it might not be the worst idea to get to know some of the boys. Wanda being the assistant coach meant that she could afford to been more casual with the players.

"Alright," she replied. Pietro beamed and turned around to his friends to give them a not-so-subtle thumbs up.

The small group that had gathered by the side of room cheered, prompting Wanda to laugh. The group motioned for the twins to join them as they began to leave the room.

* * *

Natasha had been preparing to leave when she ran into someone in the hotel parking lot. Literally. She was walking toward her car when she suddenly collided with another person. A much bigger person. With blonde hair.

She stumbled backwards but felt a pair of hands grasp her forearms to steady her. Natasha raised her head to see a familiar face.

"Sorry, ma'am," Steve apologised with a small smile. "I didn't see you there." Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Was that supposed to be a _'short'_ joke?" she asked sceptically. Steve's ears tinged with pink as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"N-no, ma'am. I w-was just waiting f-for a taxi" he stuttered awkwardly. Natasha could not keep the smirk from her lips and Steve noticed the passing mischievous gleam in her eyes. The jovial twinkle in her eyes put Steve at ease while gave him a strange feeling in his stomach. Natasha held his gaze for a beat before glancing down and motioning in front of her. Steve realised that he was in the way and leapt back.

"Sorry," he blurted, scratching his neck. Natasha breezed past him to a sleek, black vintage car where she plopped her bag onto the roof. Steve turned around to face her and whistled, prompting Natasha to pause as she opened the door, eyebrow raised.

"Your car. 1977 Chevy Corvette, good taste…" he complimented, folding his arms. Natasha smiled crookedly.

"So, you like her, huh?" she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side with a playful grin on her face. Steve nodded, impressed with the shining paint job and general look of the car. Natasha chuckled and was about to sit into the driver's seat before a voice in the back of her head suggested something else. "Wanna come for a spin? Cheaper fares than a cab…" she offered, climbing back out of the car.

Steve had turned his back to Natasha and her Corvette but whirled around with a sheepish smile. He glanced at Natasha then back at the vacant taxi rank and fidgeted with the strap of his gear bag. Suddenly, he turned toward the beautiful car and began walking toward it.

"Oh yeah, how much is it gonna cost me?" he asked with a smirk, opening the passenger side door.

* * *

Wanda wondered if the anguished cries of her players could be heard by the neighbours as she scored yet another goal with Borussia Dortmund. Pietro leapt up and flung his PlayStation controller onto the cushions of the sofa. The players often held FIFA tournaments throughout the season where they split into two teams and kept score of who won the most matches. Sam was the captain of one team while Bucky led another. The Maximoffs competed on the couch while the other players watched. Wanda leaned back into the couch and laughed at Pietro's indignation. He swore in Sokovian only for Wanda to reply to him quickly in the same language. The rest of the boys laughed at the expression on Pietro's face.

"Damn, I think I drafted the wrong Maximoff," Sam chuckled. Pietro turned on his heel and scowled. Bucky smirked from where he was leaning against the doorjamb.

"Snooze you lose, Wilson. They're called 'hidden' gems for a reason," he stressed with a lopsided smirk. Wanda knelt on the couch and folded her arms on the backrest as the others laughed and agreed. Barnes caught her eye as Bruce took note of the score on his clipboard and raised his beer bottle toward her. Wanda smiled and saluted him with a wink.

After a few more games, Wanda went to get a soda. She elbowed her way to the kitchen and located the fridge. She turned around to see Bucky queueing behind her and promptly moved out of the way. Wanda hopped onto the counter to sit down. Bucky peeked at her from around the fridge door.

"So, do you bring Pietro to tears often when you're playing video games?" he asked, leaning back and resting his elbows on the kitchen island. Wanda laughed.

"More often than you might think," she replied, sipping her drink. Bucky chuckled and scratched his unshaven chin. Wanda smirked at him from behind her can.

"So, I am a 'hidden gem' _,_ huh?" she teased. Bucky smiled easily, unaffected by her taunting.

"Yes, you are," he confirmed with a wink. Wanda set down her drink after taking another sip.

"Careful Barnes, someone might think you are trying to charm your way into a starting spot," she warned, pointing her finger. Bucky held his hands up. "Now, who would think something like that?"

Wanda chuckled in response before quickly slipping off of the counter.

"Pietro!" she yelled. Her brother glanced over his shoulder for second before returning his attention to his game against Tony. "I am leaving, you are coming?"

She could just make out his silver hair as he shook his head. She sighed and hollered a goodnight at him and he responded similarly. Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother as she looked around for her bag only to spin around and see Bucky holding it toward her.

"Can I walk ya home?" he asked with his confident yet subtle smile. Wanda smiled crookedly and nodded, knowing she lived a good fifteen minutes away. They left the house and began chatting as they walked along the path.

"What has you so gentleman-like?" Wanda asked, her accent more prominent when she was tired. Barnes sighed a laugh.

"I wanted quiet. After the noise of a game, and then the guys… It gets tiring, draining," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Wanda began playing an invisible violin. Bucky raised his eyebrows and chuckled, bumping her with his shoulder. She stopped and bumped him back. They walked in silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke again.

"You played well today, Barnes," Wanda said, glancing up at him. Bucky looked down and nodded appreciatively. Suddenly, Wanda stopped walking.

"This is me. I hope I don't regret showing you where I live," she joked. Bucky laughed.  
"I hope so too," he replied. They smiled at each other before Wanda turned and started up the stairs to her and Pietro's shared house. She paused just as she unlocked the door and turned back to Bucky briefly.

"Goodnight, Barnes," she said in her quiet way. Bucky smiled. "Goodnight, ma'am," he responded before starting on his way back to Sam's, once Wanda had gone inside and locked the door.

Natasha couldn't resist revving the engine a little as she and Steve drove through the night. She noticed him smiling as he ran his hands over the leather interior.

"I gotta get one of these," he gushed. Natasha laughed.

"It'd be one fun birthday present, that's for sure," she said, turning left. Steve glanced over at Natasha and smiled.

"So, where'd you get this one?" he asked. Natasha smirked slyly.

"Won her in a game of chicken," she informed him. Steve laughed at first before he realised she was serious.

"Really?" he inquired, amazed. Natasha glanced at him with the smirk still playing on her lips.

"I don't flinch easy…"


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha stood at the top of the analysis room, the television resting on a stand beside her showed clips from their next opponent's previous game.

"Xavier Athletic are happy to play defensive, let their opponents have possession and then hit back on a counter-attack. One of their major players, James Logan Howlett, is nicknamed _The Wolverine_ , he's your quintessential box-to-box midfielder. Thor and Rhodes, I want you both to stick to him when he's in your zone," she ordered. Thor and Rhodey sat straighter in their seats and nodded at each other.

"Howlett's hot-headed," Natasha began. Clint snorted. "Well that's an understatement," he interrupted, prompting Natasha to scowl. Wanda was standing beside where he sat and raised her hand mockingly as if she was about to backhand him, much to the amusement of the others.

"I hate to play this way, but we need boys to annoy him and get him booked. Pietro and Tony, it your time to shine!" she said with a smile. Tony stood up and bowed as the room erupted into applause and laughter. Natasha held her hand up for silence and a hush fell upon the room.

"Their defence is slow and leave gaps so you three…" Natasha motioned at Bucky, Pietro and Steve. "Should have a field day."

Natasha glanced at Wanda and a look of apprehension passed over her green eyes for less than a second before Wanda nodded and Natasha returned her gaze to the team.

"Tomorrow is our first away game of the season. Xavier fans are a noisy bunch but that will only make silencing them that bit sweeter. We need to show people that our win against Hyde wasn't some _fluke_. Concentrate boys! Stick to your positions and stick together!" she yelled, riling the players up. They cheered and hollered, creating quite a racket. Both Wanda and Natasha smiled.

"And just think of the London nightlife you can see if you win!"

That final statement generated an even louder roar from everyone.

* * *

" _Welcome back football fans! We've got another cracker for you today as Washington face off against Xavier Athletic in the second game of the season for both clubs. Both teams name identical line-ups to their previous outing so time will tell if the faith of the managers will be repaid…"_

The Eagles had flown down to London the evening before the match and were staying in one of the Stark family hotels. Now they were sitting in the dressing room of the Xavier Athletic stadium, preparing to take the field.

" _Be sure to pay special attention to Steve Rogers of Washington and Scott Summers of Xavier Athletic, who are expected to challenge for the Golden Boot at the end of the season. It's also worth noting that both teams have one of the best midfields in the league. With kick-off looming, I think it's time to hand you over to the commentators for the game…"_

Natasha tossed Steve the captain's armband while the players tied their bootlaces and the physios put the finishing touches on any treatment they were giving. Steve stood up to put on the armband but Natasha quickly helped him to strap it around his bicep.

"I want you to keep an eye on Barton. Howlett is going to try and wind him up, we can't afford for him to get suspended," she whispered into his ear. Steve glanced over at where Clint was pulling on his boots. He returned his gaze to Natasha's intense green eyes and nodded solemnly. She acknowledged him before returning to Wanda.

After a few more minutes, Wanda began giving her final brief to the team. Once she was finished, Natasha took over motivational duties.

"I heard the press calling our last win a 'fluke'. They said it was sheer dumb luck that kept us from losing," she began, giving the dressing room a long, sweeping look. "Well, I don't know what match they were watching, because I saw a determined and stubborn performance from a very capable team. I believe in you boys, don't let any amount of media speculation fool you. If I've said this once, I've said it a hundred times; I know who have what it takes to gain promotion this season. So, go out there and show the world what you can do!" As she finished her speech, the room became a frenzy with adrenaline-filled players roaring their approval. Wanda tugged open the door and the team poured out into the tunnel.

* * *

The home team kicked off and Scott Summers played it to the centre back, Hank McCoy. Steve sprinted to close him down but McCoy quickly moved the ball to the left winger, Bobby Drake. Bucky attempted to tackle Drake but the smaller man wriggled free of Barnes' challenge. Thankfully, Clint was alert and sprinted in to slide tackle Drake before the Washington defence was exposed.

It took almost thirty minutes for the first chance to come about. T'Challa lashed the ball upfield from a goal-kick. Rhodey won the ball in the air and headed it down to Tony, who controlled the ball and held firm against Summers. Tony passed the ball off to Clint.

Barton used his first touch to deftly nudge the ball through Worthington's legs, prompting the Washington fans to jeer. Clint looked up and spotted Pietro darting up the left-hand side of the pitch. Clint sent a high cross-field ball soaring toward the winger. Pietro used his explosive speed to glide past the defender and leapt toward the ball. He controlled it rather spectacularly with his left foot, guiding it to the ground. As he dribbled forward, Pietro saw that only the goalkeeper was left to beat. Pietro had just dashed into the opposition's penalty area when the goalkeeper rushed out to meet him. Maximoff quickly decided to fake a shot to avoid the challenging task of lifting the ball over the much taller man.

Pietro reeled his left foot back while moving the ball around the goalie with his right foot. However, just as he was about to round the 'keeper, he felt a body crash into his legs and sent him sprawling to the turf, landing hard onto his shoulder. The referee's whistle pierced the air and he pointed at the penalty spot immediately. Within seconds, both sets of players had surrounded the referee with one team calling for more severe punishment for the goalkeeper.

Pietro never saw the red card that was shown to the goalie as he received treatment from the head doctor, Helen Cho. Tony picked up the ball and handed it to Steve who was the designated penalty taker. As the referee waved the protests of Xavier Athletic away, Rogers placed the ball down on the white mark in the middle of the penalty box. He stood apart and waited for the referee to regain control. He glanced over at the touchline and saw both dugouts in two very different states.

The Xavier coaching area was in chaos. The substitute goalkeeper was trying to change into his kit while the assistant coach frantically explained tactics. McCoy hastily put on the goalkeeper shirt and gloves to fill in for the penalty before his team were permitted to use a substitute and substitutes were off the bench and hurling abuse at the referee. Contrastingly, the Eagles' area was calm to the point of serenity. Natasha stood on the grass in her pantsuit with her blazer open and her hands in her pockets. Wanda sat on her seat with her arms folded and her expression passive.

Natasha met Steve's gaze and gave a subtle nod, motioning with her hand to stay calm as McCoy took to the field in his ill-fitting shirt and gloves. The referee had finally cleared all remaining defenders and ordered both players to wait for his whistle. Steve took several large steps back from the ball and took a deep breath. The would-be goalkeeper waved his hands dementedly in an attempt to disrupt Steve's focus. The whistle blew and Steve began his run up. The untrained McCoy leapt to his right far too soon as Rogers coolly slotted the ball into the opposite corner. Steve reeled away to celebrate and was joined by most of his teammates. Bucky leapt onto his back and Steve stood as if he was giving his friend a piggy-back. Several others threw their arms around Steve's neck as he stopped in front of the travelling fans. Then, he stood up straight and gave his trademark salute as his teammates and fans cheered.

* * *

Washington went into their dressing room at half-time leading and the break gave the doctors a chance to examine Pietro more thoroughly. Nothing too serious was found and Dr Cho simply sprayed his calf with freeze spray and informed him to tell her if it grew more painful.

"Keep this up boys, Xavier are completely disgruntled. You need to score again as soon as possible after this," Natasha urged, handing out water bottles. "C'mon boys, you were all over their defence before the break. We're a man up, I want you to use that advantage. Run at the defenders, they're afraid to tackle now, we need to exploit that."

Washington came out of half-time determined to score again. Unfortunately, Xavier Athletic were rejuvenated and galvanised from whatever their manager, the aptly named Charles Xavier, had said to them.

In the fiftieth minute, Howlett had possession for the so-called X-Men near to the Washington penalty box. Rhodey marked him tightly but the small, burly man brushed him aside. Thor lunged in with a crunching slide tackle that knocked the ball away from Howlett and into Clint's path. The Xavier player reacted angrily at the referee's decision to play on. He shoved Thor, who barely stumbled, and Clint passed the ball off quickly to respond to the Wolverine. The two players squared up to each until Steve and Sam grabbed Clint and yanked him away. The referee reached into his pocket and showed both Howlett and Clint yellow cards. Steve flicked Clint's ear and tapped his forehead. _Concentrate_.

A few minutes later the X-Men were awarded a free kick on the right side of the penalty area when Tony was judged to have pulled the shirt of an opposition player. Drake sent in a delightful curling cross that was met by a leaping Summers. The header sped toward the net and T'Challa was forced to make a sublime save, diving to his left and stretching his hand as far upwards as possible. He sprang back to his feet and screamed at his defenders to get organised. He commanded the attackers to stay outfield. T'Challa pounced on the resulting corner, spotted Steve at the centre circle and booted the ball toward him. Steve sprinted past the slower defender and sped toward the ball. He controlled it, knocking it in front of him of he dribbled forward at speed. The substitute goalkeeper was inexperienced and indecisive, eventually deciding to charge toward Rogers. He moved much too late and was left stranded helplessly as Steve chipped the ball over the head of the goalie. The ball was inch-perfect and soared just under the crossbar.

The away fans erupted once again and Steve ran with his arms aloft in celebration and was once again mobbed by his teammates. This time, the fans and players saluted in near-perfect synchronisation.

* * *

The score was now two-nil and Washington were very much on top for the rest of the game. However, the game was not without its frustrations particularly for Clint. He was constantly badgered by Howlett. On one such occasion Howlett muscled Clint off of the ball, only for Barton to grab Wolverine's jersey and pull him back. Steve's stomach dropped and Clint held his head in his hands as realisation dawned on him. The referee immediately called a foul and reached into his pocket. Clint tried to protest as he was shown a second yellow card and, subsequently, a red card. The majority of the stadium jeered and whistled as Clint slowly made his way off the pitch, his head hanging low. The players looked to their manager as Barton slumped off the field. Natasha's stoic manner was unchanged and she patted Clint's shoulder as he passed. She tapped her head with her index fingers. _Concentrate_. She turned back to Wanda and motioned at Rumlow to warm-up.

"Who do we take off?" Wanda asked, sharing Natasha's thoughts. Natasha folded her arms.

"Pietro. I can't risk him getting another knock. Bring on Rumlow and we can go to a 4-3-2. Push Banner into Clint's position. We are not letting this go," she told Wanda. The assistant nodded and made a bee-line for the touchline official.

With little over a half-hour left, Rumlow came on and relayed the instructions. Bruce began to fill in the midfield gap while Bucky dropped back to play behind Steve. Rumlow was a tough tackler but a solid centre back and he and Thor were a formidable partnership. Bruce was a better player with the ball at his feet and was a capable midfielder, though he did not have Clint's inhuman passing accuracy.

The X-Men threw everything at Washington in the last quarter of the match and T'Challa was forced to collect more crosses and corners. However, Washington did receive one final chance with five minutes left. Once again, T'Challa sent a long kick up to Bucky who dribbled down the wing at speed, beating all his opponents. He approached the goal from the side and cut the ball back to Tony, who had just arrived in the penalty area. Stark struck the ball perfectly and it rifled over the goalie and into the roof of the net. Tony turned and ran to Bucky, whose pass made the shot impossible to miss. He jumped onto Bucky as the others joined them. Steve glanced at Natasha and laughed as she finally showed some emotion. Wanda leapt off her seat as the ball hit the net while Natasha raised her arms in the air and hugged Wanda.

The match finished three-nil. The Washington players celebrated whole-heartedly as Xavier Athletic left the field dejectedly. Once all the post-match interviews were finished (Tony and Clint were under strict orders to stay hidden) Natasha joined her players in the dressing room. As soon as she entered, the room erupted into cheers. She was hugged by the elated players and hoisted onto the shoulders of Thor and Sam.

"Washing-ton, nan na, na na! Washing-ton, na na, na na!" They sang. Well, roared.


	7. Chapter 7

After the game, everyone returned to the hotel. Natasha assembled the team in the lobby and let the boys hit the town but called one back.

"Clint," she said. Barton froze and turned toward her. She folded her arms.

"What happened today," Natasha began sternly. "Will never happen again. From here on you keep your head. No more red cards, you're better than that. Am I clear?"

Clint gulped and nodded.

"Good," she said with a small smile. "Now, go catch up to the others."

Clint nodded and left to meet his teammates. As he turned onto the street from the hotel, he saw his friends ahead of him. Ever since he had been made to sit in an empty changing room, Clint's mood had been sour. He felt that he had let everyone down and that he had proved everyone who had faith in him wrong. Clint walked a few more paces before he realised that a crowded nightclub was the last place he wanted to be.

He stopped suddenly, just as his friends broke into laughter in front of him, and turned into the first bar he found. What he found was a typical pub that was quiet enough to carry out a conversation. Clint took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink from the elderly lady behind the bar. There was a television in the corner of the ceiling showing highlights from La Liga (the Spanish League) much to Clint's relief. As he sipped his beer, Clint watched the grainy images of Messi, Ronaldo and Griezmann and remembered how he had dreamed of playing for Barcelona when he was a schoolboy. The tiki-taka passing had mesmerised him and still did, although he did have a strong admiration for the attacking mentality of Real Madrid.

There were few patrons in the bar. A small group of older men sat at a table while two similarly aged women sat at the window. Clint also spotted a girl, about his own age, sitting at the top of the bar and typing furiously at a laptop. She wore a weathered leather jacket over a grey hoodie. The girl frequently glanced up at the television and noticed Clint's gaze. They locked eyes for a brief moment and Clint saw that she had eyes a blueish- green.

After a while, the door to the bar swung open and a group of boisterous, most likely intoxicated, men entered. They were loud, obnoxiously so, and Clint pitied the ageing barmaid but was surprised by how stern she became. He was forced to hide his smirk behind his drink when she refused to serve one of the men unless they 'pulled up their trousers and realised that the world didn't need to see their underwear.' The men looked elsewhere to amuse themselves and, unfortunately, the girl who had been sitting at the bar was their target.

Clint could hear the men pestering the girl- asking for her name, her number and her star sign. Clint made sure to keep an eye on the situation. Suddenly, one man slammed her laptop shut and grabbed her arm when she stood to confront him. Clint leapt to his feet and stormed toward the sleazy group. He grabbed the collar of the man holding the girl's arm and shoved him back. Clint wasn't the tallest of his teammates – he stood at just under 6 feet – but he made up for it in strength and spirit. A different man attempted to square up to Barton but Clint grabbed hold of his jacket collar and yanked him forward before pushing him on top of his friend. Both men seemed to struggle to get up before a different man stopped them.

"He's the lad from today. Got sent off, leave it before he decks ya!" he said, helping his friends up. Clint took half a step forward but the group scurried away and bundled out of the bar. Clint smirked before turning back to the girl. She had sat back on her stool with a dazed expression.

"You alright?" Clint asked gesturing at her arm. She gave a half-smile and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "I just hope my laptop can say the same."

Clint was taken aback by both her calm and her strong Irish accent. She lifted the lid of her computer and sighed in relief.

"It's all good," she stated. Clint laughed. "You must be writing one good novel," he said. She looked at him with a small crooked smile.

"An article, actually," she informed him. "I'm a journalist."

She saved her writing before closing the document and turned back to Clint.

"I'm Clint," he said, offering his right hand.

"Jamie Hennessy. But everyone just calls me Hennessy," she replied, shaking his hand while running her left hand through her brown hair. "Thanks for that, but I had it covered," Hennessy said. Clint smiled.

"I know that. I just wanted to step in before you knocked him out with a headbutt," he said. Hennessy smirked. "I was waiting for you to pull his shirt, you seem fond of that move."

Clint knew that he should have been angry at the red card jibe - and had it been anyone else, he would have been- but he found himself smiling wryly at the joke.

"There's always next time," he stated with a smirk. Hennessy considered him for a moment before smiling and turning back to her laptop. He was about to leave for his own end of the bar when she spoke again.

"If it's any consolation," she began, tearing her eyes away from the computer. "Howlett should have been sent off for a high foot on Wilson in the first half. Wolverine almost decapitated him…"

Clint laughed and nodded. "To be fair, the ref didn't see me elbow Drake when he tried to get the ball back."

Hennessy smirked slyly. "Well, who ever said football was completely fair?" she asked, returning to her article.

* * *

Meanwhile Sam, Pietro, Bucky and the rest had found a popular nightclub. The players found a booth of their own and ordered drinks. Steve, trying to be the responsible adult, made sure to pay attention to what (and how much) they were all having. After a few minutes, most of the team went to socialise. Steve, Bruce and T'Challa were not the nightclub type and so stayed behind talking amongst themselves and kept an eye on their friends.

"I really hope this wasn't a bad idea," Steve yelled, fighting to be heard over the loud music. T'Challa laughed.

"As long as no one spills anything on Stark's Tom Ford suit, I think we are safe," he said. The others chuckled.

"I think it's Gucci, actually," Bruce said as he sipped his drink. Steve and T'Challa both snorted in response.

Pietro first saw her through the pulsing strobe lights. They streamed through long, dark hair as she danced with a group of other girls. he couldn't help but be mesmerised by the flashing lights and the way she moved, long curls falling all around her. Suddenly, Peter Quill snapped his fingers in front of Pietro's eyes, startling the Sokovian.

"What'a ya looking at?" he asked, the others looking at him expectantly. Pietro shrugged and told them he needed a drink.

He was standing at the bar, drumming on the glass countertop with his fingers when he felt someone arrive beside him. Glancing to the side, he did a double take when he glimpsed the same dark waves from earlier. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, so that he wouldn't be caught staring. She didn't seem too bothered by the thought.

"I think I know you from somewhere," she stated, gazing up at him. Pietro jumped and looked down. He smiled and creased his forehead.

"I play football," he said. She pursed her lips, which were as red as Hyde United's jerseys, before shaking her head.

"That's not it," she replied. "Were you in a toothpaste commercial?"

Pietro let his mouth hang agape for a moment as he tried to think of a response.

"N-not that I recall," he said, bewildered. The girl sighed.

"Must've been someone else then. Your hair just reminded me of it," she told him, gesturing at his silver locks. Pietro touched his crown protectively, not really knowing how to proceed. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. She stared at him as if he were insane, but did adopt her own crooked smirk.

Their drinks had arrived by now but she didn't show any signs of leaving and Pietro was very happy where he was.

"So, you play football. Must be pretty fun," she said. Pietro inclined his head.

"Lots of pressure but it can be fun. When you take risks," he explained. The girl smiled brightly at the word 'risks'. She folded her arms on the bar.

"So, you like risks, huh? Adventures?" she inquired, one chestnut brown eyebrow raised mischievously. Pietro smirked.

"I think so, yes," he answered. She seemed to sway slightly before she bit her lip turning around. Pietro dropped his smile.

"Where are you going?" he called after her. She whirled around and gestured at him to follow her.

"You said you liked adventures, come on!" she yelled back. Pietro glanced back at the dancefloor where his teammates were now mingling with the girl's group of friends. He shifted on his feet before glancing back at the girl. Pietro made up his mind and they collected the jackets from the cloakroom and left the club.

The chilled night air was a stark contrast to the sticky heat of the nightclub. The girl grabbed his hand and led him down the street. Pietro walked slightly behind her, only now realising that she was, in fact, very small.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as she pulled him along the grey pavement. She glanced over her shoulder with a bright smile.

"That's a surprise, Mr. Footballer," she replied. They walked for a time, it could have been seconds or hours, all Pietro knew was that even when he had caught up to her quick strides she still held his hand to guide him.

* * *

Eventually, they came across a bridge. The girl stopped halfway and pointed across the Thames at a row of houseboats. One was slightly bigger than the others and warm light radiated from its windows. Music could be faintly heard across the water.

"That's where we're headed," she announced. Pietro had precious little time to take in the area fully before she yanked his hand and led him toward the boat. As they approached the boat from the bridge, a figure appeared on the top deck and waved in their direction. The girl waved back and sped up, dragging Pietro behind her.

As they got nearer, Pietro could see people milling around the boat. It was two stories tall and looked as if someone had taken a cabin from a mountainside and dropped it into the middle of London. The girl let go of Pietro's hand now and rushed down a flight of stone steps to where the boat was moored. Pietro followed her.

The music was louder now, though it was at a more pleasant level than the club, and there was a low hum of people holding conversations without having to shout. The front door, if you could call it that, was circular and wooden. She pushed it open and gestured for Pietro to follow her.

"It's alright, this place is a bar at night," she assured him. Pietro smiled and followed her into an open plan kitchen and living room. The interior was much more modern than the exterior suggested. The floor was tiled with a ceramic kitchen island, couches with plush throws and a large television on the left wall. A corridor branched off to the left and several people were sitting and chatting but the girl continued straight through the room and out a set of sliding doors to the deck at the back of the boat.

There was a wooden bar to the side and a few small tables with two chairs placed around the deck. However, most people sat on the beanbags and deck chairs with woollen blankets strewn over their legs. Underfoot, meanwhile, was fake green grass. Pietro smiled at the absurdity of it all while the girl left his side and returned with two small glasses and chocolate bars. She motioned at him to sit down in a beanbag in the corner of the deck, right beside the whitewashed railings. She took the bag nestled into the corner and set the glasses down on a short box provided as a table. Pietro was still grinning as he ran his hand along the fairy lights that were wrapped around the railings.

"What d'you think?" she asked, looking at him expectantly. Pietro turned his gaze to her deep brown eyes.

"It's…not anything I've seen before. It's…" He searched for the right word. "…Amazing."  
She seemed satisfied with his conclusion as she opened her candy bar, throwing him the spare.

"It's owned by a friend of mine. Erik Selvig. He's a scientist, or maybe a physicist…Anyway, he owns this houseboat and turned it into a bar for a side business," she explained as Pietro looked around. His eyes settled on the girl again. The warm glow of the fairy lights cast shadows across her face. Suddenly, realisation dawned on Pietro.

"I do not even know your name," he admitted. She scoffed.

"Names are overrated, people put too much stock in them. Trust me, I'm a political science major," she replied. "But I realise that would be hard to turn into a caller I.D., so you can call me Darcy."  
Pietro chuckled and Darcy smiled. She inclined her head.

"What about you? What do they call you, Mr. Footballer?" she queried. Pietro opened his chocolate bar.

"Well, the fans started calling me 'Quicksilver' but-" Pietro had begun telling her who he was when she cut him off.

"Wait, _Quicksilver_?! Why that?" she asked excitedly, sitting further forward. Pietro laughed and gestured at his dyed hair, Darcy nodded.

"And I'm fast," he informed her, pretending to run on the spot while sitting down. Darcy giggled.

"So, _Quicksilver_ , who do you play for?" she questioned, easing back into her seat as she took a bite of her bar. Pietro did the same and sat back.

"Washington Eagles. Near Sunderland," he said. Darcy's smile faded slightly.

"Sunderland? That's…far," she stated. Pietro's stomach dropped as her realized that, after tonight, he may never see Darcy again. He had known her for only a handful of hours but he railed against the thought. Neither of them spoke for several seconds until Darcy reached out.

"Gimme your phone," she demanded. He unlocked the iPhone and handed it over. Darcy punched in her number and gave him his phone back. As he was about to tuck the phone back into his jacket pocket, he noticed the late time and several missed calls. He hadn't known his phone was on silent and quickly turned the sound back on. Pietro looked at Darcy again. His expression must have betrayed him as she gave a sad smile.

"You gotta go, don't you?" she only half-asked. Pietro nodded and she stood up, he followed her to his feet. They made their way through the boat and back out to the stone steps. His mind raced as he tried to find a solution. He couldn't just forget about Darcy. The thought just felt wrong.

"There are tons of London teams in the league. Plus, everyone plays twice in a season. We will be back," he assured her as they reached the pavement. Darcy stopped and craned her neck to look at him.

"I'll be here. Same time, same place. Let me know when you guys are down here," she said. Pietro promised and they stood in the cold for a few seconds, just looking in the other's eyes. He stooped down as Darcy stood on her tiptoes. Their lips brushed for only a second before a shrill ringtone pierced the air around them. Darcy gave a small sigh and smiled.

"Okay, now you really have to go," she told him, laughing. Pietro grinned.

She called him an Über to help him get back to the team hotel sooner. However, their lack of time did not prevent her from standing on her tiptoes once more to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Pietro turned to see her but she had already returned inside. He sat into the car and let his fingers drift to the place on his cheek where her red lipstick had left a stain.


	8. Chapter 8

Five games into the season and Washington were unbeaten, having won four and drawn one match. Their success left the Eagles at the top of the league table with a cushion of three points protecting them from second placed Hyde United. The success also led to a surge in the substantial scrutiny Natasha was already under. Papers were clamouring for 'exclusive' interviews and tabloids and celebrity websites were examining her matchday outfits. Natasha simply attended the press conferences and smiled for photographs on the club website. apart from those, she avoided journalists – always opting to keep quiet. This led to her being branded as 'elusive' and 'mysterious'. However, Natasha's tactics also led to her garnering another nickname. She encouraged her team to stay calm and allow the other team to have possession which tended to lull the opposition into a sense of security, only for her players to score on a quick counter attack and go on to win the match. Both the papers and fans began to refer to her as the 'Black Widow', much to Pepper's amusement.

"It makes you sound like a murderer," she said as she reclined on Natasha's bed. Natasha rolled her eyes as she unpacked one of the boxes in her bedroom. She had been swamped with work since moving into the house the club provided and had seized the international break as an opportunity to finally settle in. Pepper had offered to help but took up a more 'supervising' role.

" _The Black Widow_ \- It's not as if you're murdering the other team right after-"

Natasha interrupted her friend and agent. "I think it's more of a metaphorical thing," she replied, laughing. Pepper giggled and propped herself up on her elbows as she flicked through the articles on her tablet.

"So, what were the results of the internationals again?" Natasha asked, setting a pair of shoes by the door. Pepper sighed as she brought up the scores.

"Good ole US of A drew 2-2 with Mexico. Rogers and Wilson scored. Stark got sent off. Reyes scored both for Mexico," Pepper told her. Natasha looked up and scratched her head.

"Stark got a red?" Natasha asked apprehensively. Pepper nodded. "Yup," she answered, popping the 'p'.

"Between Tony and Clint… Jeez, they're both gifted but hate thinking rationally sometimes," Natasha complained. The suspension would not affect Washington at all but it would play on Stark's mind. Pepper inclined her head, zooming in on a photograph of Stark in action.

"Mmm…He's pretty cute, though," she commented. Natasha raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Really? Stark?"

Pepper shrugged and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Oh, come on!" she cajoled. "You must have noticed that you've got a pretty hot team."

Natasha laughed and rolled her eyes once more. "Some of us can control ourselves," she replied. Pepper narrowed her eyes.

"So, you're telling me you haven't noticed Sam's infectious smile, Bucky's 'straight-out-of-a-Taylor-Swift-video' face or just T'Challa in general?" she implored. The redhead shook her head with a smirk. Pepper bit her bottom lip mischievously and looked at Natasha from under her brow.

"But you must have noticed Steve Rogers' baby blues and blond hair. I mean, he's just got that gentle giant vibe down, right?"

Natasha glared at Pepper as she cleared her throat uncomfortably. She could feel heat rising to her neck but refused to seem flustered. She picked up a cushion and threw it at Pepper's head. Pepper caught it and sent it back.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Pepper said. Natasha sighed and pointed menacingly at her. "Shut up."

* * *

Two days later, the team was back in training. It was a gym day so all the players spent their day inside the large complex. The gym and locker rooms were located on the top floor of the complex. All gym sessions were supervised by the individual coaches while Wanda sometimes dropped by to see that no one decided to throw a dumbbell out the window, she often took the opportunity to visit nearby youth academy just a mile down the road. Natasha stayed in her office to work on tactics. She also had meetings with the PR team and management.

Maria Hill was always required to attend the meetings and was the first person in the room most days. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. She had spent almost an hour looking for the car keys that had been in her coat pocket and the traffic had been ridiculously busy. She wasn't helped by the fact that she had to carry her own briefcase _and_ a box of files left by the previous owners. Maria finally reached the complex and hastily parked her car. She rushed inside but her foot caught on a rug and she dropped the box, spilling its contents onto the wooden floor. Maria bent down, swearing under her breath in frustration. Suddenly, a pair of Nikes appeared in front of her and someone bent down to her level and began helping her to gather the pages.

"You alright?" the male voice asked, handing her some of the files he gathered. Maria sighed and glanced up at the person helping her. She saw Sam Wilson smiling back at her. She took the files and nodded briskly.

"I think I'll be okay," she replied, standing up. "Haven't gotten any papercuts yet."

Sam chuckled. "That's lucky. Damn papercuts sting like hell," he stated, pushing himself up using his knees. Maria allowed herself a small smile but frowned once more when she attempted to carry both her briefcase and the box. Sam quickly came to her aid, however, seizing the box before it fell again.

"Need a hand?" he asked. Maria breathed a laugh. "I could do with about fifteen more but...Yeah, you can help me."

Sam gave a dashing smile. "I'd be honoured, ma'am. I'm Sam, by the way," he said as they started up the stairs. Maria glanced at him.

"Maria. Maria Hill," she replied. Sam did a double-take.

"Oh, you're the chief exec! We met a couple months ago. At the announcement of the takeover," he explained. Maria looked at him, before suddenly remembering their first introduction.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I remember now. Sorry," she recalled as they reached the first landing and turned onto the next set of stairs. Sam laughed.

"I'll try not to be too offended by the fact that you find me forgettable," he fretted, jokingly. Maria smirked. "You do that."

Sam made a joking 'hmph' sound. They chatted some more as they climbed the stairs.

"So, do you come to a lot of the games?" he asked. Maria nodded. "Well, I've been to all of 'em so far," she replied. "I saw the US game against Mexico, too."

Sam stood a little straighter, thinking about his goal. A shot from just outside the penalty box that rifled into the top left corner.

"Oh yeah?" he asked smugly. Maria saw his expression.

"Yeah. I thought your goal took a deflection though," she admitted, relishing the indignant look on his face. He cleared his throat and threw his shoulders back.

"Seriously? The ball took a bobble off the pitch and curved," he protested. Maria laughed.

"Sure, blame the pitch," she said teasingly. Sam shrugged as they reached the second last floor. He motioned at the corridor that branched off to the left of the grand staircase.

"Meeting rooms is over there, right?" he inquired. Maria nodded in confirmation and they set off down the carpeted hall. Sam saw photographs of past teams and managers hanging on the dark blue walls. He marvelled at the honours the old teams had won and stopped in front of a photo of the 1972-73 squad which the captain holding the F.A. Cup aloft. Maria noticed Sam standing at the photograph.

"We intend to get back there someday," she said solemnly. Sam glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. "I just hope it's someday soon," he replied, turning fully back to her. It was Maria's turn to shrug. "You guys play well and it could be sooner than you think."

They walked a few more paces until Maria stopped outside a dark mahogany door adorned with the eagle of the Washington crest.

"Alright, I think I can manage from here. Thanks, Wilson. You better get to training before Romanoff drops you," she told Sam. He grinned as he handed her the box.

"Anytime, Miss Hill. I can just blame you anyway," he replied cheekily, opening and closing the door for the raven-haired woman. He set off back down the corridor and up the stairs for the gym, pausing only to gaze at the F.A. Cup photograph once more.

* * *

Wanda often visited the youth academy to inspect the next crop of promising youngsters. The academy was run by Phil Coulson and Melinda May. When she arrived, Wanda encountered the Under 18s and Under 21s training on their all-weather pitch. She spotted Coulson overseeing all the sessions. Wanda made her way over to the balding man.

"Coulson! Got any more wonderkids for me?" she yelled as she crossed the gravel to reach the pitch. Phil whirled around and squinted against the sun, smiling when he recognised the Sokovian. He laughed and shook her hand in greeting.

"You tell me," he said, gesturing at the batch of players training. Wanda noticed several players glancing over at her only for May to send them for a couple of laps of the pitch. Phil gave the teenagers his best glare before returning his gaze to Wanda.

"So, how're Parker and the others doing?" he asked. Wanda folded her arms as she watched the young players.

"Good. They are settling in well to the senior side, Campbell came on as a sub a while back and did well. We are thinking of starting Parker for the next Cup game, to give T'Challa a break," Wanda replied. Coulson nodded in agreement.

"You are still keeping an eye on the grades?" Wanda inquired. Coulson and May were adamant that all players kept up their studies to the best of their abilities. While the young players might be promoted to the first team, the academy still took responsibility for them until they were firmly established in the senior team. This meant that the academy acted like a second family when needed: making sure the boys did alright in school, arranging accommodation and looking after the kids in general.

Phil laughed. "We try, not everyone's an academic. Well, except for the Leo Fitz kid. He's a damn computer," he told Wanda, pointing at the skinny midfielder who sometimes trained with the seniors. She laughed.

"I will have to tell Natasha. Might be useful to have an _actual genius_ in the senior squad," she responded.

* * *

It was growing dark when Natasha finally finished for the day. She shut down her laptop and stretched as she stood. Suddenly, a light caught the corner of her eye. Natasha turned around to see the floodlights off the training pitch turning on. She spotted a lone figure setting up cones and footballs on the field. She quickly gathered her things and rushed outside to investigate.

Natasha finally recognised Steve as he sprinted around cones, tracked back and then moved between the cones once more before finally shooting for goal. He didn't seem to hear her trainers as they crunched on the gravel.

"You realise you don't have to live here, right?"

The sudden and unexpected voice made Steve stumble and fall as he ran backwards, which made Natasha smirk slyly. He scrambled to his feet and gave an embarrassed smile as the redhead came closer to lean on the railings that ringed the pitch.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stuttered. "I just wanted to work on something."

Natasha nodded. "Your agility?" she asked. Steve nodded, placing his hands on his hips. "Is that a _clumsy_ joke?" he asked, recalling that night in the parking lot. Natasha raised an eyebrow and smirked. Steve smiled inwardly at the quirk of her lips.

"You can't train alone," Natasha stated. "You need a coach." Steve furrowed his brow.

"But, if you fall…Your clothes… They'll get messed up," he replied. Natasha glanced down at her sweater and jeans before shrugging and pulling the sweater off, leaving her with the t-shirt underneath. She dropped her bag and ducked under the railings.

"The jeans were old anyway."

Steve watched incredulously as she jogged toward him. She stopped in front of him and folded her arms. "Well? Are we standing or training? Run straight, sprint back, go between and shoot."

Steve felt himself going red as he doubled back and started again.

They trained for almost two hours, Natasha showed him how to hold himself to get around defenders quicker. After a while, they began playing against each other, taking turns in defence and attack. Natasha showed that she was unafraid of a little dirt as she slid into tackles that sent Steve sprawling. She also demonstrated her own technique and agility by flicking the ball around Steve or between his feet. She was so quick that he found himself resorting to tugging her back by her t-shirt. Suddenly, Natasha skipped to a stop. Unfortunately, Steve wasn't so nimble and fell onto his backside, bringing Natasha down with him.

They landed in a heap on the turf, Natasha falling backwards onto his broad chest. After an uncertain few seconds, Steve heard her burst into gentle laughter. Her sultry chuckle was infectious and Steve couldn't help but join in. Natasha pushed herself into a sitting position on the grass and Steve propped himself up on his elbows. He watched, somewhat entranced, as she tucked a loose strand of her behind her ear.

"You're pretty nimble, boss," he said. Natasha smiled. "I have a background in ballet but…"

"A love for football," Steve finished. Natasha glanced over with intense green orbs. Steve smiled. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"So, how'd you get into…all this?" she asked, gesturing at the complex and field. Steve sighed and leaned further bac on his elbows.

"Back in Brooklyn, Bucky used to play all kinds of sports. I got all kinds of beat up…"

Natasha raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. Steve shrugged and gave an easy smile.

"No, I swear. After a while, Bucky got tired of having bruised knuckles from saving me so he brought me to one of his soccer practices. And I fell in love with it, hit a growth spurt and spent every hour I wasn't studying or working, playing soccer in the streets or maybe a field- if I was lucky…" he explained. Steve returned his gaze to Natasha from his hands and she was struck by the blue eyes that Pepper had been so enthusiastic about. Natasha saw that his soft blue eyes deserved all of Pepper's praise.

They spent some more time sitting and talking before the floodlights began to fade. Natasha looked around.

"Looks like it's time to go," she said, sighing. Steve smirked and stood up. "I believe you're right, ma'am," he replied, offering her his hand. She considered it before giving a small smile and accepting his help. Steve pulled her to her feet and found that her hand lingered on his for a single beat. She moved away quickly however and shivered as she went to collect her things.

Once Natasha had shrugged her sweater back on, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of Steve gathering the equipment. He looked up and caught her eye, waving.

"Goodnight, Miss Romanoff," he shouted across the field.

"Night, Rogers," Natasha yelled back.


End file.
